


Contagious

by fuzipenguin



Series: Half Your Age +7 [12]
Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Older!Twins, Other, Twincest, younger!ratchet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-27
Updated: 2018-09-27
Packaged: 2019-07-18 05:59:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16112300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuzipenguin/pseuds/fuzipenguin
Summary: Even doctors get sick.





	Contagious

**Author's Note:**

> Anonymous said: Since you seem to be rolling with the awesome young!Ratchet verse: how about a look at what happens when Ratchet gets sick. Not combat injured. Just the cyber-flu or something that primarily makes you miserable and unfocused

                It was just about at the point that he was starting to bump into things.

                Ratchet hadn’t actually made contact with any tables or doorframes yet, but it was a close thing. He’d turn around and move, and at the very last second his optics would catch that there was an object coming up in his periphery. He did a lot of shuffling his pedes and quick jumps to the side which did nothing good for his already unsettled gyros.

                “Take three rations of the medical grade with you,” Ratchet instructed to a grumpy red minibot. “You’ll want to drink those throughout the day along with your regular fuel. And rest. The more you rest, the sooner you get better.”

                The mech nodded and ambled off towards the table of pre-packaged energon, weaving a little. He wasn’t the only one. This cyber-flu had hit the base hard and three quarters of its personnel were sick. Including the majority of the medical staff. Hoist had been down for two days now, leaving First Aid and Ratchet working long shifts to cover the floor.

                Ratchet was halfway through his shift, but the soldiers just kept coming in, two or three an hour. At least he had a system down: a quick scan to reveal the typical rise in engine temperature, confirmation of a processor ache and stiff cables, and the directions to rest and supplement intake with medical energon.

                After the minibot was gone, Ratchet sent a note to the base commander of the disease’s newest victim. The commander had since stopped acknowledging them personally, as they were coming too fast to do so now.

                Ratchet looked around the Bay and noted no new bodies, so he swayed over to the apprentice desks and took a seat. Hopefully, he’d get a few minutes of his own to rest, because by now he had to acknowledge that he had caught the illness as well. At least the mechs coming to see them were already sick so would be unlikely that he’d be able to pass anything on.

                He got five minutes and then a veritable flood of Autobots came in. Ratchet dealt with them and the ones following and the rest of his shift flew by. Near the end, he was so exhausted and dizzy that when he turned around and slammed into another mech, he just kind of leaned there for a second before pushing himself upright.

                “I’m sor… oh… Sunstreaker,” Ratchet said into the frontliner’s chestplate. There was no one else Ratchet knew of with that particular gold shade. He didn’t even have to look into Sunstreaker’s face to recognize him anymore.

                Sunstreaker put his hands on Ratchet’s shoulders, steadying him as he took a step back. The frontliner studied Ratchet’s face and frowned.

                “You’ve caught it now too, haven’t you?”

                “Yes, I’m afraid so. How is Sideswipe doing?” Ratchet inquired. Sunstreaker was probably back to grab another day’s worth of medial energon for his brother. A quick scan revealed Sunstreaker’s temperature to be normal.

                Sunstreaker rolled his optics and released Ratchet to cross his arms over his chest. “He’s a sparkling. I hate it when he gets sick; he never stops complaining.”

                Ratchet smiled briefly because yes, he could totally see that. “Are _you_ feeling all right?”

                “Yeah. It’s pretty rare for us to both be sick at the same time. When do you get off shift?” Sunstreaker asked, switching subjects so suddenly that Ratchet’s head spun.

                “Um…” Ratchet checked his chronometer to find that he was actually now well into First Aid’s shift. He looked around and spotted the other medic on the opposite side of the room. Now that he thought about it, he had mumbled something to First Aid about finishing up some records when the other medic had come in. That had been over an hour ago. The records had gotten done but then he had fallen back into the rhythm of assessing anyone who walked through the door.

                “Yeah, that’s what I thought. Grab some cubes, doc, we’re getting you off your feet,” Sunstreaker instructed.

                With a heady sense of relief, Ratchet followed Sunstreaker to the energon supply and then out the door. It was wonderful to have someone else in charge, even if for a few brief minutes. He was so happy to let someone else make decisions that he didn’t even realize he had followed Sunstreaker all the way to the twins’ quarters and then inside.

                One moment he was in Medical Bay and the next, he was here.

                “Put ‘em down over there,” Sunstreaker said, pointing at a desk along the far wall. Ratchet realized Sunstreaker meant the cubes of energon that were in Ratchet’s hands. He had honestly forgotten he was still carrying them.

                “Sunny?”

                A hoarse, scratchy voice caught Ratchet’s attention and he followed Sunstreaker through a roughhewn door in the side wall to see an overly large berth taking up the majority of the room. As he furrowed his orbital ridges in confusion, he realized that the twins had taken the rooms each assigned to them and connected them, moving the beds into one.

                “He followed me home.”

                Sideswipe cocked his head to the side from where he had sat up in the berth and stared at Ratchet blankly for a moment. Then he flailed upwards out the next of blankets he had made around himself.

                “Ratchet! You came to visit!”

                “I… I just wanted to check in on you,” Ratchet said. He internally winced. He didn’t want to encourage this odd fascination the twins have with him. But he also didn’t want to admit that he had been feeling poorly enough that he didn’t remember the walk here.

                “Oh, that’s so sweet,” Sideswipe said faintly, holding a hand over his spark. “I’m so honored.”

                “He’s sick too,” Sunstreaker said, plopping down on the edge of the bed.

                “What?!” Sideswipe exclaimed. He leapt forward and cupped Ratchet’s cheeks in his palms, looking him over. “Oh, you’re so warm. Have you been resting? Have you had the energon?”

                “He was working an hour past his shift,” Sunstreaker added, not cowing the slightest when faced with Ratchet’s glare. The frontliner needed to stop tattling!

                “Tsk. You’re wobbling on your pedes. Sit… rest a minute,” Sideswipe demanded, taking Ratchet by the shoulders and steering him to the bed.

                “No, no, I should be in the medic quarters in case First Aid needs me,” Ratchet protested.

                “Who’s the one with more experience?” Sideswipe retorted. “He is. So he can manage. You didn’t have any help when you were on, did you?”

                “No,” Ratchet admitted. The back of his knees hit the berth and he fell onto his aft, bouncing a little.

                “Oh!” he said in surprise. “Soft!”

                “Sideswipe likes soft things,” Sunstreaker reported. “The mattress is specially made.”

                “You don’t _hate_ soft things,” Sideswipe pointed out and grabbed a blanket from his nest. He threw it over Ratchet’s shoulders, tucking the edges around him. “There. Isn’t that better?”

                Ratchet had to admit that it was comforting to have the cloth draped over him. And getting off his feet really eased his aching struts. He felt his optic shutters getting heavy now that duty was no longer keeping him awake.

                “It’s nice. But even if I don’t go to Medical, I should still go to my quarters. I don’t want to impose,” Ratchet protested, dreading the thought of the long walk back to his room. He was just so dizzy…

                “You’re not imposing! Just rest there a little. I’m gonna get you some energon, ok?” Sideswipe said excitedly. He dashed into the other room and Ratchet heard a rustling sound and the pouring of a liquid.

                Ratchet squinted after him and suddenly the lights dimmed. He sighed in relief; even the normal level brightness of the overhead lights made his head hurt.

                “Sideswipe was sensitive too,” Sunstreaker murmured. He seemed much closer than he had been before and Ratchet turned too suddenly to look at him. An even stronger wave of dizziness swept over him.

                He closed his optics and swayed in place until Sunstreaker grasped his shoulder. “Here, lie down.”

                “No, I should…” But the hands were gentle and guided him down until he was lying on his side on the soft berth. Someone lifted his feet up and then more soft things were being tucked around his body, from the tips of his pedes to his chin.

                “Here’s…! Oh! Oh, Sunny, look… he’s so adorable…” Sideswipe voice cooed as if from a great distance away. “Our poor little Cuteness…”

                Ratchet was _not_ adorable. He wished Sideswipe would get that through his thick head. “…’m not cute.”

                “You are… you really, really are,” Sideswipe replied. “Get some recharge, bitlet. The energon will be waiting.”

                Just when Ratchet was about to drift off completely, he felt the mattress shift and some of the covers get tugged away. When he whined a protest, someone hushed him and he was pulled back against a wall of heat. He sighed in happiness when a second source of warmth blanketed him from the front.

                He was comfortable, and he felt safe. His body wouldn’t take no for an answer any longer and he plunged into the darkness of sleep.

 

~ end


End file.
